


A long expected party with unexpected consequences

by SonOfGondor



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Bofur and Bifur are toymakers and everything's okay, Fluff, M/M, Smaug who
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2019-10-06 20:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17352500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonOfGondor/pseuds/SonOfGondor
Summary: Bilbo Baggins, respectable hobbit of Bag End, undertakes a journey to Bree to seek out the best dwarven toymakers. This one request unexpectedly turns his life around when he meets the grumpy Thorin, a good friend of the toymakers, and both of their lives are changed for the better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! I've been a Tolkien fan for a long time, but I've not gotten into Bagginshield until very recently. When I had this idea, I couldn't wait to get to it, and even though I'm not sure where to go with it (comment if you have any ideas, they're more than welcome) I hope I do it justice. I have no idea if this has been done before, I'm pretty new, so yeah, too long of an introduction, just go on and read. I really hope you enjoy!

Bilbo walked along the main street of Bree, his eyes searching for what the innkeeper had told him to look for: Bifur & Bofur Toys. It better be worth the journey he’d undertaken to Bree, because he could feel his normally so sturdy feet burning with pain. The walking stick he’d used so lightly in the beginning of his travels now seemed a necessity more important than food. Ah, what he’d give for a nice pint, a good meal and a soft bed. But he hadn’t come here to get that; he could get that at home and much better too, thank you very much. He’d come here to get the most perfect gifts for his fiftieth birthday party. And Dwarvish toys, as were rumored, were the very best.

He hurried along the lane a little faster when he felt the first drips of rain. It had stayed dry all the way, and right now it should begin? No, he better find it before the rain really burst loose. In that moment a colorful if not a little weary sign caught his eye: Bifur & Bofur Toys. There it was! He quickened his pace a little more and pushed the door open. A bell rung to indicate his arrival and as soon as he closed the door behind him, the rain started pouring down. Just in time.

“Hello?”

He heard some movement in the back, but so far nobody came in yet. He took a deep breath and took the time to take a look around. The workshop was wonderful: wooden toys were dispersed all over the place, some even moving by themselves, other so lifelike he had to blink and look again. There were little dragons, tiny dwarves and even miniatures of houses like the big folk had: tall and above ground. He had to hold back his instinct to touch, because he wondered if the dragon would bite his finger if he got too close.

“Ah, hello!”

Finally a dwarf appeared from the back, wearing a wide smile and a woolen hat. His hair and beard were braided, like Bilbo knew was common for dwarves, but wasn’t as long as he’d had expected.

“Are you a customer?”

“Ah, yes.” He put out his hand and the much bigger dwarven hand took his. It felt rough from years of hard work, and Bilbo suddenly felt a bit ashamed of his lavish lifestyle. “Bilbo Baggins,” he said. “I might have a big assignment for you.”

“Oh!” The dwarf said. “That’s exciting. My name is Bofur and my cousin Bifur is working in the back. What are you looking for?”

_Bofur, Bifur… Those dwarves sure had a way of naming their children._

“I’m looking for a large quantity of gifts to give away on my fiftieth birthday party. I want the most exciting toys.”

“Oh,” his smile grew even wider. “But you’re in the right place then, master Baggins! We have everything you might be looking for.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile back. He had never actually met a dwarf in his life, just seen them from a distance and heard stories about them, and he always thought they seemed kind of moody. As a child he never dared to come close to the dwarf merchants travelling through the shire, and as an adult he never felt the need to. This Bofur was nothing like that though.

“Can I look around a bit?”

“Of course, take your time.”

Bilbo walked up closer to the toys and got fascinated by the exceptional quality. When looking at a wooden horse, painted a dark brown, he seemed almost sure it was to move at any moment.

“Are these magical?”

“Some of them, yes,” Bofur replied. “They cost a little more.”

“I understand.”

His eye is draw to a little red dragon, his head in the air, with shining scales. When he comes close, the eyes seem to follow him.

“How about this one?”

“Oh, the dragon,” Bofur says. “Yes, that one is one of my most finest work. Do you know it can breathe fire?”

“Fire?”

“Oh, not actual fire.”

Bofur picked up the dragon and pressed a hidden button on his stomach and a reddish flame came out of his mouth.

“So that’s not actual fire?”

“No,” he said, and he held his finger before the dragons mouth. Nothing happened. “Totally safe.”

“Wow. That’s amazing.”

“Right? Would you like more of those?”

Bilbo nodded. “I think I could think of some children who would love this.”

“That’s amazing. We could think of making –”

Bofur was interrupted by the sound of the bell and he looked up. “My apologies, master Baggins.”

Bilbo followed his gaze and saw another dwarf standing in the doorway, his dark hair and beard drenched by the rain outside. He was glaring daggers at Bofur.

“Ah Thorin,” Bofur said, “You’ve gotten a little wet, I see.”

“I lost my way,” he grumbled. “Twice.”

“Still good of you to join us.” Bofur gestured towards Bilbo. “This is Bilbo Baggins, hopefully a future customer of mine. And this is Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Ehm, yes,” Bilbo said. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

Thorin Oakenshield. It sounded like a great name for a great dwarf, but still, this drenched dwarf was standing here in this toy shop in Bree, looking more like a wet kitten than a great dwarf. A very big, very grumpy kitten. He looked at Bilbo one more time before storming away, into the back of the shop, and Bilbo blinked.

“Who was that?”

“Thorin Oakenshield,” Bofur says. “A friend of me and a great dwarf.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “A dwarf of great grumpiness, I’d say.”

Bofur laughed. “He’s like this, yes. But you’d be grumpy too if you got lost in the rain.”

“Twice.” Bilbo added. “Bree is not that big, is it?”

“Thorin feels more at home under the ground. As most of us do.”

That he could understand. “We hobbits do too, actually. Big folk are always out making houses above ground, even up in the air! They don’t understand how nice a hobbit hole is.”

“Ah yes,” he smiled. “A home under the ground.”

“Very nice. Very nice indeed.”

“Are you from here?”

“From Bree?” He shook his head. “Oh no, most certainly not. I’m from the Shire.”

“The Shire? That must have been quite the journey.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of exercise, don’t you think?”

“Oh, couldn’t agree more. Just not out in the rain.”

Bilbo laughed. “Thorin knows all about that, it seems. 

“He does.”

 

* * *

 

 

When the door reopened, Bilbo expected to see Thorin again, but instead there’s another dwarf. He too had dark again with a bit of grey mixed in and that same grumpy expression, but he looked nothing like the other dwarf.

“Ah, that’s my cousin Bifur.”

Bilbo nodded and added a hello.

“He can’t speak common, I’m afraid. That’s why I do most of the customer service. But he’s a wonderful toy maker.”

Bifur grumbled and nodded.

“He does understand, but most people don’t know, so they talk behind his back.”

Bilbo nodded, this time just out of politeness. Having Thorin show up seemed to have changed things a bit, and now, being in a shop with three dwarves, that was a bit out of his comfort zone.

“Well, hello again then,” Bilbo said. “Nice to meet you.”

Bifur added a grunt and a nod and Bilbo watched him go into the back again.

“So, the shop is about to close early tonight,” Bofur said. “Thorin is back and we’re going to celebrate in the Prancing Pony. Is that where you’re staying?”

“I haven’t booked a room yet, but I was planning on staying there, yes.”

“Why don’t you join us for a drink?” Bofur proposed. “You can tell me everything you need and maybe Thorin can tell what he’s been up to. Believe me, he does always have an interesting story to tell.”

He felt a bit hesitant to accept an invitation from a strange dwarf, but he was already planning on a hearty meal and a good pint, so why not listen to a few stories he could bring back to the Shire? They’d want to hear everything and he might as well have some good ones.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Yes, why not?”

“Good.”

Bilbo looked out, and realized most of the rain had stopped.  

“Yes. I’ll see your company at the prancing pony tonight?”

“We will.”

 

* * *

 

After booking a nice cozy room and finally putting his pack down, Bilbo was sitting in the inn, enjoying some sausages. He had no idea how hungry he had been, but now he thought about ordering a second plate and maybe another pint. The beer was not as good here as it was in the Green Dragon, but it was still a good ale.

No dwarves had shown up yet, but the inn was still full of voices. There was a hobbit servant going around assisting the innkeeper, some other hobbit customers too, but most of them were of the big folk. He wishes they weren’t so tall, as nobody noticed him between their enormous stature and loud voices. Didn’t know how to handle an ale, Bilbo thought to himself, and that was the truth.

The dwarves came in during his second plate and Bofur immediately made his way up to Bilbo. Whether or not Bofur saw him just as rich customer that needed some buttering up or not, Bilbo thought that Bofur was quite a good fellow. He wasn’t sure about his company yet. There was Bifur, the cousin he’d already met, Thorin, and a new dwarf he hadn’t seen before. He had reddish hair and the same color of beard, and an impressive size.

“Bilbo, my lad!” Bofur came up to him with the smile he’d come to associate with him. “Good to see you.”

Bilbo smiled back and quickly swallowed the last bit of food still in his mouth. “Bofur, hello. I see you’ve brought an entire company.”

“Oh, that’s nothing. But I think you haven’t met my brother Bombur yet?”

“No, I haven’t.” He wiped his hand off on his handkerchief and stuck out his hand, which was quickly engulfed by a dwarven hand. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

“Bombur, at your service.”

All and all Bombur too seemed like a polite fellow too. He didn’t have the same grumpiness to him as Bifur and mostly Thorin had, and took an interest in Bilbo’s food, which he immediately ordered another platter of.

“Master Baggins is promising to be a bog client of ours,” Bofur said to Bombur. “He’s throwing his fiftieth birthday party.”

“Happy birthday,” he said, between two bites. “This food is excellent, don’t you agree, master Baggins?”

“I do,” he said, happy to have something familiar to talk about. “I have lived on provisions for too long.”

“Can’t be as good as what Bombur makes for us.” Bofur put a hand on his brothers shoulder. “He’s talented, you’d love it.”

“I sure like anyone who can appreciate a good plate of food, dwarf or hobbit.”

The whole company laughed at that, except for Thorin, who stared off into the distance instead.

“So, Thorin,” Bilbo tried, “you’ve just come back from a long journey too, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have.” He coughed and sat up straighter. “I’ve come from the Misty Mountains searching for hints of the map.”

“Have you found it yet?” Bofur asked.

“No,” Thorin replied, seemingly getting more grumpy by the minute. “I have not found it. I got into trouble with some mountain giants.”

Bilbo nearly choked on a piece of potato. “Excuse me, _mountain giants?_ ”

“Yes.” Thorin frowned, looking very important and even more grumpy. “I lost my pony on the way and barely made it out alive.”

“Well, tell us everything, Thorin!”

“Wait a minute.” Bilbo put down his cutlery. “A map for what? There are no mapmakers in the Misty Mountains.”

“A map to get into the mountain,” Thorin said. “The lonely mountains, the kingdom of my forefathers.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “That sounds all very important.”

“It is, master Baggins,” Thorin replied. “I am the rightful king under the mountain, but my kingdom has been _taken_ by a wrathful dragon.”

“Wow,” Bilbo said. “So I am in the company of a real dwarven king.”

“Indeed I am.”

Bilbo took another sip of his ale, wondering how he had gotten into this. One minute he had just talked to some innocent dwarven toymakers, the next a real dwarven king was sitting across from him. That’s why, he told himself, hobbits didn’t mingle with outsiders. Keys and maps and mountain giants, that sounded like trouble. Trouble he’d rather stay out of.

“Thorin needs that map to get back into the mountain.”

“Can he not find his way back there?”

Bofur snorted so hard beer came out of his nose and Bombur joined in with a hard but warm laugh. Bifur chuckled, but Thorin’s eyes shot daggers, now at Bilbo.

“The map, _master Baggins,_ is needed to find the secret entrance to the mountain.”

He nodded. “And then what about that dragon?”

The company was quiet, even Thorin.

“He isn’t sure about that yet,” Bofur admitted eventually.

Bilbo shook his head. “That’s a good story, I must admit, but this is why we hobbits tend to stay away from the outside world. No good comes from that. Dragons and dwarven kingdoms,” he said, laughing. “Let me worry about my dinner and the gifts for my guests.”

Thorin grumbled and stood up, saying: “I’m gonna get another pint.”

“Well, he’s quite… important,” Bilbo said, as soon as Thorin was out of earshot. “What is a dwarven king doing here?”

“Thorin is an old friend of ours,” Bofur replied. “He’s been looking for a way back into his kingdom for a long time.”

Bilbo nodded, sipping his ale. This was none of his business. Maps, dragons, attractive dwarven lords with grumpy faces… no sir, that was _none_ of his business. Still, something intrigued him about Thorin. Maybe it was that Took side of him.

“And what about you? Are you secretly dwarven royalty too?”

“Oh no,” Bombur laughed, “I’m just a cook and these two have been making toys on the road.”

“That’s right.” Bofur nodded. “We’ve travelled a lot with Thorin, but we have to settle down one day. Find a nice place to set up shop maybe, or move to the Iron Hills or the Blue Mountains one day. Find a wife with a luscious beard and have some kids…” Bofur stared off in the distance. “That’d be nice.”

“A place to cook,” Bombur added, “roast some meat and make a home…”

“Thorin won’t rest until he’s found that map though,” Bofur added. “He wants to go back to the lonely mountain one day.”

“He does.” Bombur nodded. “But where do you hail from, master hobbit?”

“I come from a place called the Shire. It’s a few days on foot from here. It’s a nice place,” he said. “Very nice. There are comfortable holes and lots of time for dinner and supper, and elevensies, and both breakfasts. Nothing really happens, but we like it that way.”

All three dwarves nodded along.

“Oh, Bombur, they’d love a talented cook like you there.” Bilbo laughs. “No dragons there either. Or mountain giants.”

“Do you always throw such huge parties?”

Bilbo shook his head. “Only for special occasions. I decided fifty was a special year, although I am not sure why.”

“I’m not complaining,” Bofur said, and the other dwarves reacted with roaring laughter.

“Hey,” Bilbo said, his judgement a bit clouded by the ale. “Maybe you’d all like an invitation?”

“Oh yes, we don’t say no to a party, do we, Bo – ”

“What party?”

Thorin had come back with a pint in his hand and stood still like a statue, his brow furrowed.

“Master Baggins just invited us to his party, Thorin!”

Thorin nodded slowly and finally sat down. “A party?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, feeling nervous around Thorin now. “I’m throwing a party for my fiftieth birthday.”

Suddenly Bilbo wanted to establish he was a very important and well to do hobbit, thank you very much, but his status seemed nothing compared to Thorin’s.

“A birthday party?” Thorin laughed for the first time that evening. “Well, then we should drink to master Baggins’s birthday, don’t you think?”

“I do think so,” Bilbo replied. “Yes, I do think that’d be a good idea.”

 

* * *

 

One pint later Thorin’s grumpiness had worn off a little bit. Now he had taken back the attention from Bilbo and he was telling them all about his adventures fending off the enormous mountain giants. Bilbo had only heard stories before, about a friends uncles wife’s picking something up one time, but he’d thought they belonged to the kingdom of myths and tall tales. Still, Thorin told him about giants as big as mountains, so big one might confuse them with one. And that’s exactly what he did.

“So I finally pulled myself back up and I realized I was completely lost.”

Bilbo had never heard such an exciting story. If Thorin came to his party, he sure would throw the best party in years. The neighbors would be talking about that for years. On the other hand, maybe they’d think him strange. He, Bilbo Baggins, a respectable hobbit, inviting some strange dwarf folk?

“How did you get back?” Bilbo couldn’t help but ask.

“It was a long journey where I almost ran out of food,” Thorin said. “But my instincts told me where to go.”

It was a very exciting tale, Bilbo decided, and from anyone else he might have thought it to be a lie. But Thorin seemed a lot – grumpy, stuck up and full of himself – but not a liar. Something about him made him really believe all these things. Something about the dwarf fascinated him.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day Bilbo woke up with quite the headache. It had been a lot for one night: the food, the beer and the stories. He had to admit he loved hearing about those stories. He always had, but the last few years his love for food and the calm life in Bag End had won. Maybe here in Bree he’d be able to pick up some books or hear more of those stories from the dwarves. Then, an idea stirred itself and Bilbo sat upright in his bed. He could write them down! Yes, that’d be a marvelous idea. He used to write stories in his boyhood, but in the Shire one would run out of tales to tell quite quickly. But Thorin probably had much more stories to tell, if he’d be willing to tell them. He could make notes here and make a proper story out of it at home. Maybe some young hobbits would even want to hear the frightening tales of Thorin, dwarven king. It’d make an excellent party attraction too. Oh, this would be the party of ages. Everyone would be talking about it for years to come.

Bilbo jumped out of bed, his headache gone in that instant, and stretched out. He could use a good breakfast after yesterday. Yes, he’d surely earned one. He changed out of his nightclothes and put some fresh clothes on, feeling better than he’d ever felt om a morning like this.

“Good morning,” he said to the bartender, “what do you have for breakfast?”

“Well,” he replied, looking just as chipper as Bilbo did, “we have a nice hobbit special, with toast and crispy bacon.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Bilbo decided not to wait for his breakfast at the bar, but instead wandered over to one of the tables. His eyes searched the room for familiar faces, but either Thorin slept over at Bofur’s place or he wasn’t up yet. Well, he was in no hurry, was he? There was no need to feel disappointed. Still, he couldn’t help but feel his mood being brought down a little by Thorin’s absence.

That went away soon enough though, and it started with the first bite into his breakfast. The bacon had the perfect amount of crispiness for him, and for a second he forgot about Thorin and the dwarves and the bizarre new world he had found himself in and imagined he was back in Bag End, having breakfast after a nice long walk the day before. The illusion was shattered the moment he heard the door open, loudly. Thorin was there, and he had bags under his eyes and his mouth was an even grumpier-looking line than it had been yesterday. Bilbo quickly noted now might not be the best time to tell him about his idea.

Still, most curiously, he sat down next to him.

“Good morning,” Bilbo said, careful not to sound too chipper. Thorin just grumbled some words back that could be Common as well as Dwarvish.

“You should get the hobbit special. It’s excellent.”

“Isn’t that for hobbits?”

Well, at least he was speaking now.

“We hobbits have a good appetite though.”

 Another grumble.

“A good breakfast is the best way to get over a hangover.”

“I’m _not_ hungover.”

Bilbo held back a laugh. Sure, Thorin wasn’t hungover, and dwarves don’t have beards.

“What you want.” Bilbo bit into a pancake and licked his lips. “It’s truly excellent.”

Thorin just stared at him, and Bilbo was starting to wonder why he came here, if he was just going to stare at him from under those angry eyebrows. Bilbo dealt with the Sackville-Bagginses, he surely did not have a hard time handling a grumpy dwarf, whether he be a king or no.

“Fine,” Thorin said finally, and he got up and stumped up to the bar.

Bilbo wasn’t aware Thorin had engaged the two in some of game, but it’d seemed he had won. A most curious folk, those dwarves. He only met a couple of them, and most of them had been so awfully grumpy. There was no fun in that, was there? Eating breakfast grumpily, Bilbo couldn’t imagine, especially the breakfast they served here. The Prancing Pony… He should get back here someday. The neighbors would probably have something to say about _that_ , but Bilbo didn’t care much. The food was surely worth it.

When Thorin came back, he had a plate of the hobbit special in his hand.

“It’s good,” Bilbo said, between two bites.

“They didn’t have anything for dwarves.”

He just nodded, and replied after he swallowed his food. “Dwarves are not very common around here.”

“Well, they will be.” 

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

Thorin opened his mouth to say something, but he paused and then apparently decided to shove a spoonful of food in it instead. Only after a long and very awkward silence did he answer:

“Because of my friends.”

“Bofur and his family?”

“Yes.”

Thorin sure was fun and easy to talk to, Bilbo thought. Maybe he needed a pint to get going. However, he wasn’t going to offer him a pint right now, in this hungover state.

“I don’t know how they can just sit here and do nothing,” Thorin said, after another long silence.

Bilbo didn’t reply. This was none of his business anyway, although he understood Bofur, Bifur and Bombar far more than he understood Thorin. They were out making a living while Thorin was out risking his life on these adventures of his.

“They’re giving up on the mountain.”

“The mountain you’re king of?” Bilbo asked.

“What _other_ mountain would there be?”

“Oh, tons. I believe the grey mountains are full of them.” He nodded to himself. “Mountains, I mean.”

“Well, there’s only one mountain that matters and that’s the lonely mountain.”

Bilbo just nodded again. He just learned another thing about Thorin: just let him talk. Thorin obviously thought himself very important, way too important to be conversing with a random shire hobbit. It would maybe seem like that was what he was doing here, but Bilbo knew the truth: he was just being talked to.

“And that _dragon._ ” He bit into his bacon like it’d personally taken the mountain from him. “He’s just sitting there, counting his gold.”

Bilbo wondered if dragons could count. He’d never seen a dragon, but he had heard of dragons. Dragons were of no concern to hobbits though.

“That absolute…” The next word was in dwarven, and Bilbo didn’t understand it nor wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” Bilbo said, wondering what Thorin wanted. Maybe he’d exhausted all his friends with this and Bilbo was his next unfortunate victim. Well, he had no time for this, he decided. He had things to do. Very important hobbit things Thorin would probably think are not important at all. However, Bilbo wasn’t asking for Dwarven opinions on hobbit business.

“I have to –”

“I’m telling you, Bilbo, one day the lonely mountain will be brought back into its former glory.” He sighed. “You should have seen it…”

Apparently he was trapped by politeness. As Thorin continued, weaving stories about what that dwarven kingdom once had been, Bilbo went over to just nodding and staring. It wasn’t an absolute punishment to have to stare at Thorin, no, he was quite handsome, he had to admit. He wouldn’t know if the dwarves agreed, and even the other hobbits would be on his side, probably. He didn’t have the kind of curls hobbits would find attractive, neither was he very well fed or did he have blushing cheeks and a charming smile. No, he was nothing like a hobbit should be, which, Bilbo told himself, was good. He was a dwarf, after all. A dwarven king even. He was a very important dwarf and Bilbo suddenly felt like a very unimportant hobbit.

Thorin only stopped talking when his food was finished. Bilbo’s food had been finished far before, but Thorin had not taken notice.

“So,” Bilbo said, making use of the sudden quiet. “I promised Bofur I’d come back to his shop to place an order.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” For the first time Thorin seemed to have realized how much he talked. “I won’t hold you up any longer.”

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “Thank you.”

“Will you be heading home after your order?”

“Well, no,” Bilbo said. “I want to see how the first few toys come out before I pay the full som.”

Thorin nodded and a smile curled around his mouth. A rare sight.

“Yes,” he said. “I suppose you should.”

“Yes.” Bilbo nodded slowly and stepped back a little. If he wasn’t careful, he’d sit here another hour. “So, we might meet again.”

“I hope so, master Baggins.”

 

* * *

 

Bilbo made his way over to Bofur’s shop, and the familiar smell of wood entered his nose.

“Good morning, Bilbo!” Bofur was standing over at the counter, and when Bilbo came closer, he saw he was working on a tiny wooden dwarf.

“Hello.” Bilbo smiled and looked over at the toy. “Is that Thorin?”

“Yes, it is.” Bofur held the toy up and showed its dark beard and lowered bushy eyebrows. “What do you think?”

“I think he looks perfectly grumpy.”

“I think so too.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

Bofur smiled and gestured Bilbo to come closer, as if he was sharing a secret. “I’m going to give it to him.”

“What?” Bilbo shook his head. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.” He patted the wooden dwarf on his head. “It’ll be funny.”

“Does Thorin even know what humor is?” Bilbo said, before he could even realize that was quite a rude thing to say.

Bofur laughed, however. “Sometimes he does. When he’s drunk.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but join him in his laughter. “So I’ve seen him at his jolliest?”

“You have, master Baggins. You sure have.”

“Hard to believe.”

“Oh,” Bofur said, that same smile making an appearance again, “I think he has actually taken a liking to you?”

“To me?” He laughed. “Oh no, there’s no way. He seems like he hates me.”

“He does that with everyone, believe me. If he really hated you’d know.”

“I feel like I know.”

“Oh no, laddy.” He put mini-Thorin on the counter and his wooden eyes stared at Bilbo. “He likes you, believe me. He hasn’t threatened your life yet, has he?”

“No?” Bilbo was _never_ threatened like that before, he couldn’t even imagine…

“He likes you.”

Bilbo wanted to reply, say something, because Thorin surely didn’t like him, he was quite certain about that, thank you very much, but the door swung open and Bifur appeared.

“Oh good,” Bofur said. “Bifur’s has been working on a few of those dragons that you liked so much.”

“Oh!” Bilbo turned away from the wooden Thorin to check out the wooden dragon Bifur held in his hand. “Wow. That looks great.”

This dragon was not painted yet, but it still looked like it was about to fly from Bifur’s hand at any moment.

“Can I see it up close?”

Bifur just nodded, and so Bilbo stepped closer, watching the tiny dragon in fascination.

“That’s amazing,” he said. “Would they be safe to play with?”

“Oh, definitely,” Bofur said. “We’re toymakers, right?”

“I suppose you are.”

This would truly be the perfect gifts. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Lobelia’s face when she saw this. Not only are they beautiful and exciting, they were dragons! The green dragon would no longer be the only dragon in hobbiton.

“These are perfect then.” Bilbo said.

“Good.” Bofur beamed. “How many are you going to need?”

He had wondered himself too. Not every kid would like a dragon, probably, but he knew some that would love to make tales about vicious dragons and brave knights. He should give the others something else. And of course he couldn’t just give out one gift, no, that’d be entirely bad form. He should at least have three gifts for every child. He knew some couples had been a bit more… productive than others, so he should keep that into account too.

“Write me up for thirty of those,” he said.

“Thirty?” Bofur’s eyes grew. “Wow.”

“And I’d like some of those horses too.” He ignored Bofur’s widening eyes and scratched his head. “And heh, maybe I should get one of those wooden Thorins too.”

Bofur laughed. “You know what, that’ll be our treat. He’ll hate that.”

Bifur joined into the fun and got the wooden Thorin and said some words in Dwarvish Bilbo didn’t understand but sounded very particularly grumpy. Only when the bell that indicated someone had come in did they realize they had company.

“What’s going on here?”

It was Thorin. Bifur hid the tiny Thorin behind his back and mumbled a Dwarvish greeting.

“We were discussing business with master Baggins here,” Bofur said quickly. “He wants to put in a huge order, Thorin.”

He just grumbled and then rested his eyes on Bilbo. “Is that so?”

“Well, yes. I’m planning to make this a party to remember.”

Thorin shook his head. “Is parties and toys really the only thing you all care about?”

“Come on, Thorin,” Bofur said. “Can you not chase away my biggest costumer so far?”

“Your _only_ costumer so far.”

“We just opened the store,” Bofur protested. “So far we’ve gotten further than we’ve ever gotten on your quests.”

Thorin’s eyes grew and he stood there for a second. Then he turned around and stormed off, slamming the door on his way out.

“Oh,” Bofur said. “You think I shouldn’t have said that?”

“Maybe not.” Bilbo sighed. “You said you thought he liked me?”

“Yes,” Bofur said. “What do you --,”

“I’m going to talk to him.”

 

* * *

 

Bilbo had to run to catch up with Thorin. He was moping, clearly, walking over the main road with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

“Thorin, wait.”

He stopped and raised an eyebrow. “Master Baggins. This is none of my business.”

“Obviously it became part of my business when you so rudely interrupted my business transaction.”

“Much of a business transaction that was.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “You know, Thorin, sometimes people just want to have fun. Have a party, celebrate life…”

“My life has been taken from me!”

“And still, here you are, alive and well.”

He expected harsh words, expected Thorin to stomp off again, expected him to threaten his life, but he didn’t expect the long and very awkward silence to follow.

“It’s not --,” Thorin started. He didn’t finish.

Bilbo just sighed. “You’re alive, Thorin. Whatever happened with your home and that dragon, you made it out alive. Isn’t that worth celebrating?”

“I will celebrate when I have reclaimed the throne of Erebor.”

“Well,” Bilbo said, shaking his head. “You can forget all about an invitation to my party then.”      


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm updating this. Arriving three months late with a chapter (and an old meme), hello! It's late and my beta's asleep. Sorry for the mistakes that are probably there. Enjoy!

When Bilbo came back into Bofur’s shop with a blush of his anger still burning on his face. Thorin may be a Very Important Dwarf, but he had no right to be so disrespectful. It was as if he felt himself to be so much better than not only Bilbo, but Bofur and his family too and Bilbo hated it.

“Did you talk to him?” Bofur asked.

“Well…” Bilbo played with the buttons of his jacket. “I tried, but I ended up uninviting from my party, which I hadn’t even invited him to.”

Yes, Bilbo thought, he’d gotten himself into quite a mess. Do not get yourself into outsider business, that’s what his father used to say, and right he had been.

Bofur was quiet for a second. “Well, you tried,” he said. “He’ll come back eventually. He’s just like this.”

“I suppose so.” Bilbo sighed. He wished Thorin wasn’t so angry all the time. “Having a little bit of fun would be good for him.”

“He doesn’t even know what fun is.”

“That’s pretty sad.”

Bofur nodded. “But we’ll make your party fun, right, Bifur?”

Bifur just nodded.

“If we’re allowed to drop by.”

“Drop by?” Bilbo laughed. “No, no, I’ll send you all a real invitation, written and all. You and Bifur and Bombur too.”

“That sounds wonderful, master Baggins.” Bofur smiled, and it seemed genuine. “It’s been so long since we’ve been to a proper party.”

“And you’ve never seen a hobbit party, I bet.”

He shook his head. “Indeed I haven’t.”

“Oh, hobbit parties are the best parties, even if I say so myself.” He laughed at his own joke. “We have music and dancing, and meals for everyone and more! There’s beer and there’s laughter, you’d have a great time.”

“That sure sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It is,” Bilbo said, and added to it, in his mind: _and Thorin is going to miss out on all of that fun._

“You have meat?”

“We have meat and much more.”

“Wonderful.”

“It sure is.”

Bofur sighed. “I wish you could see a dwarven party. We haven’t had a proper party in a long time, master Baggins.”

“Then you’re lucky enough to be invited by me.”

Bofur laughed. “We sure are.”

 

* * *

 

Unsure of where to go next, Bilbo decided to head back to the Prancing Pony. Would he wait here until Bofur and Bifur had finished all his toys? Or should he go out of town before Thorin came back an things would oh so awkward between them. Well, Bilbo huffed, so be it. That Thorin thought he was so important, but he had no idea what was important to the real peoples. He didn’t even know what was important to his friends! Bilbo could understand Bofur and Bifur and Bombur. He too wouldn’t want to go on some nasty quest, when he had a home and a shop right here. While he was moping inside his room, he remembered there was something more urgent to attend to. He had only had had one breakfast and his tummy had started to rumble. Dwarves, he knew, didn’t eat second breakfast – their loss – so Bilbo knew he’d be safe for now.

Bilbo walked down and sat down by the bar.

“Do you serve second breakfast?”

“We sure do, master hobbit,” the innkeeper said. “Would you be interested in pancakes with strawberries?”

“Would I? Yes, please.”

The man nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Now, these people knew how to treat a hobbit. Good folk here in Dale, he decided. Well, almost all good folk.

While waiting for his breakfast, Bilbo looked around. It was mostly men around here, but there were some local hobbits, coming for a bite. They were probably eating second breakfast too, while the men had an ale. He didn’t like drinking big folk too much. When hobbits drank, they got cheerful and happy, but some big folk tended to get aggressive. These, however, just talked to each other or stared in the distance. Still no Thorin.

Good, Bilbo decided. That was a good thing. He _didn’t_ want to see Thorin. He definitely didn’t want to see that arrogant dwarf, no sir. Definitely not.

“Here’s your breakfast.”

Bilbo’s attention was pulled away from the room and right unto his plate. The pancakes looked appetizing, and strawberries with their crowns taken off were spread all over the plate. But the best surprise of them all was the cream. Strawberries with cream, a rare treat.

“Looks great,” Bilbo said. “Thank you.”

He was barely halfway when the door opened. Bilbo huffed and told himself not to look. He was eating now, and not at all concerned with if some dwarf would come in and maybe sit next to him. he didn’t care if that certain dwarf then would give him an excuse to invite him to his birthday party.

“Little early for lunch.”

Bilbo’s heart jumped. Thorin was sitting down next to him. When he looked up, he was staring at the wood of the bar.

“It’s not lunch,” Bilbo replied. “It’s second breakfast.”

Thorin just grumbled. He only spoke again when the innkeeper came by to take his order.

“An ale, please.”

“Little early to drink,” Bilbo said. He attempted to sound just as important and grumpy as Thorin had, but failed.

“I thought you hobbits were so fond of drinking and throwing parties.”

“You don’t seem to have brought a party with, master dwarf.”

He grumbled again and grabbed his ale as soon as it was brought. Still, he didn’t move from his chair. He was waiting for Bilbo to say something. An apology? If Thorin thought he was going to apologize, he was sorely mistaken. When Bilbo had finished his pancakes, no one had spoken another word. Bilbo, however, didn’t dare move.

“If you think I’m going to apologize, Thorin…”

“No.” Thorin hid his face behind his ale. “I’m here to…”

“To what?” Bilbo asked sharply.

“To apologize.”

Bilbo blinked. Did Thorin Oakenshield, Very Important Dwarf by trade, from the house of grump and arrogance, just _apologize_?

“What?”

“I apologize, master hobbit. I’ve been rude.”

Bilbo laughed. “Are you trying to get an invitation out of me?”

“I am, actually.” When Thorin put his cup back, Bilbo saw he was blushing. “I’d be honored to be invited to your birthday, master Baggins.”

“Well,” Bilbo pushed his non-existent food around his plate. “I suppose I can give you an invitation.”

“That’d be… wonderful.”

“But,” he said, suddenly finding his courage, “I think you should apologize to Bofur and Bifur.”

“What?”

“You’ve been awfully rude to them too. Aren’t they your friends? You should wish them luck instead of berating them.”

Thorin was quiet for a while, and many times it looked like he was going to say something but didn’t. Eventually he looked down and said:

“I suppose you’re right, master Baggins. I’ll apologize to them.”

“Good.” Bilbo pushed his plate away and stood up. “We’re going.”

“But…”

“But what?”

Thorin was speechlessly pointing towards his ale.

“Finish it then. We’re going to the shop.”

 

* * *

 

 

Bilbo felt mighty fine about his newfound power. Maybe he could finally convince Thorin to act a little less grumpy and a little nicer. Yes, he thought, a party would do him good. It was probably long since he had a little real fun. All that moping couldn’t be good for a dwarf.

“Bilbo.” Bofur looked up from a wooden figurine. “You’re back.”

Thorin followed, one step behind him.

“And you brought out dear friend Thorin.” Bofur sighed. “Listen, Thorin, I shouldn’t have said that thing about that quest of yours.”

“I’m… sorry too.”

“Oh?” Bofur raised an eyebrow. “You are?”

“Yes. I’m happy you’ve found your place here. And I’m sure the shop will do fine.”

“Why, thank you, Thorin.” Bofur held up the figurine. “You want your gift now?”

“What?”

Thorin and Bilbo came closer, and that was when Bilbo saw what Bofur had been working on: it was the miniature Thorin.

“Is that me?”

“Yes.” Bofur held it up. “Isn’t it perfectly grumpy? That’s what master Baggins said.”

Bilbo blushed. _Keep me out of this,_ he wanted to say, but kept silent.

Thorin picked up the figurine and studied it. “He – I – it does look grumpy.”

“Just like you.”

There was a brief silence and then Thorin started to _laugh._ Bilbo almost jumped from surprise.

“It looks great, Bofur. You know, master Baggins here was right. You are very good at this.”

“Well.” Bofur said, pulling on his vest. “He isn’t wrong.”

“No.” Bilbo stood a little more upright. “I’m not.”

“Is this for me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

Thorin looked at it one more time. “Yes. I do.”

An awkward silence fell. “Well,” Thorin said, figurine still in hand. “I’m sure you two have… business to discuss.”

“Yes.” Bilbo nodded. “Important business. Very important business.”

“I’ll go then.”

 

* * *

 

Bilbo looked at him leave and as soon as the door closed behind him, Bofur burst into laughing.

“Wow, laddy,” he said. “Thorin really likes you.”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo said, ignoring the blush creeping up.

“He apologized to you. You even made him apologize to us. You got a magic power there, laddy.”

Bilbo’s blush crept up higher. “I mean…”

“Don’t waste it, master Baggins.”

“I invited him to my party.”

“Oh, good!” Bofur leaned over the table and played with one of his toys. “Maybe he’ll learn about this little thing called fun.”

“I would hope so.” Bilbo took a deep breath. “I have thought about staying in Bree until you’re done, but the truth is, my garden will get unkempt and my businesses not taken care of.”

“So this is goodbye?”

“For now.” Bilbo nodded. “But I’ll see you at the party, and before.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll leave my address and instructions here.”

Bofur straightened his back and ruffled through the stuff on the working bench.

“Ah,” he said, taking out a quill and ink. “Do tell.”

 

* * *

 

“And that should be it.” Bilbo sighed. “I expect you a few days before the party. I’ll have tea ready and you’re welcome to stay at my house.”

“I’ve never stayed in a hobbit hole before.” He shrugged. “Reckon that’ll be new.”

“I hope my beds are long enough for you.”

“Oh, don’t worry, laddy, we’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

“Then I’ll be seeing you.”

Bilbo was about to leave, when Bofur called after him.

“Thorin is staying on the first room on the first floor.”

When Bilbo turned around, he was waving innocently. “Thought you might like to know.”

 

* * *

 

When Bilbo arrived back at the pony, he was sure he wasn’t going to say goodbye to Thorin. He’d hear from Bofur, he’d be fine. Thorin was too busy being Very Important to care about a lowly hobbit like himself to care anyway. That’s why, when he was done packing, he was very surely _not_ going to the first floor to knock on first door.

Except that he did. He felt his heart beating in his chest. _Don’t be silly,_ he said to himself. _It’s only Thorin._ But that was exactly the problem. Finally the door opened and Thorin stood in front of him, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Master Baggins,” he said, “you’re here.”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, pointing to his packed sack. “I’m going.”

“Oh. That’s… a shame.”

“Well,” he tried to smile. “I have to go home. Take care of business. And my garden.”

“Your garden,” he repeated. “Yes, I’m sure you do.”

“But I’ve left my address with Bofur.” He swallowed. “If you want to come by. For the party.”

“Yes.” Thorin nodded. “Yes, I think I will.”

“Yes?” Bilbo couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Yes, I mean, good! Good, good. It’ll be good for you.”

Thorin smiled. “I’m sure, master Baggins.”

“Yes.” Bilbo pulled on his sack and pointed towards the hall. “Well, I got to get going now.”

“Yes. Until soon, master Baggins.”

“Until soon.” He cleared his throat. “Thorin.”


End file.
